


To Train up a General

by TelepathJeneral



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Other, Sloane intrigues me, she needs more
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2020-01-05 23:35:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18376388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TelepathJeneral/pseuds/TelepathJeneral
Summary: Armitage Hux's path from boy to man is difficult and uncertain, but Rae Sloane has not forgotten him. With the rest of the galaxy in flux, Armitage Hux's lack of resolve is unsurprising; in order to pave a way forward, Sloane must understand him, and prepare him for the things to come.





	1. Chapter 1

Rank was such a troublesome concept, at times. Men and women clung to it like a cornerstone of their being, climbing up a tortuous ladder just to earn another square on the insignia plaque. As much as it meant nothing—in the real lives of people, it was just a name—Rae Sloane had used it for most of her life, and she wasn’t prepared to do away with it now. It had gotten her this far. It had provided most of the roadblocks to her goals. But now it was the title ‘Admiral’ that held her here, that propelled her through the galaxy, that insisted on attention from the other underlings. Everyone else had died. Vader and the Emperor were gone. But the Empire would have to continue.

Already the loss of control was felt. The Rebellion had made strides on several worlds, drawing them out of the Imperial network. Supply lines were shot through, bleeding out like veins in a wound. The Outer Rim was lawless and vile, populated with roving bands of pirates and outlaws eager to pick off pieces of her fleet. In the meeting rooms, admirals and commanders watched her uneasily, still not certain of her authority. She had to speak firmly just to be heard.

Even so, the troopers were still…loyal, to a degree. Their salutes were sharp and crisp. And they faded so easily into the background noise of their lives, into the nonsense of this shoddy outfit, that she forgot about them for long stretches of time. She was an admiral. She thought of ships, and maneuvers, not men. It wasn’t until Brendol Hux appeared, like an oily stain, in one of the corridors of her capital ship, lecturing a group of troopers who watched him impassively from their helmets. Sloane did not approach him, or say anything. The man was doing his job. But she watched him, remembering his presence, curious as to how this man who seemed such a waste of space in meetings proved to have the fire, the _charisma_ , to inspire young men to action.

The few Academies still open were accepting recruits at younger and younger ages. Brendol still had his gaggle of children somewhere, training them up as a core unit, and the thought of it both pleased and worried Sloane.

Pleased her, because it meant there was still good work happening. The Empire could still afford to train children properly, and outfit them for battle.

Worried her, because they did not have clones now—children took a long time to mature. It was all very well to prepare for the future, but so much could still happen in the present.

And she remembered another child. His eyes wide. His features already drawn and pinched, as if he was formed on a planet with too much chill in the air. His hair a shock of red, the precursor to Brendol’s faded orange. Sloane recalled the name ‘Armitage’, and a thought began to form.

She was gratified to know that their internal comms networks were still polished and clean. Sending a brief message to Brendol was easily accomplished, and when the man came to her office in person, she frowned at the lack of courtesy. Sending a ping over the network was so _easy_. Yet he’d blustered his way here in person.

“Grand Admiral, I—”

“I sent a request, Commander. It is nothing unusual.”

“Yes, but.” Brendol hesitated, facing her for the first time in several months. He was slippery, evasive, despite his size. Sloane began to realize that he did fear her, if only slightly, and tried to conceal it. “But you requested _Armitage_.”

“Yes. He happens to be the eldest of our…oh, what do we call them? They haven’t been recruited. The ‘new guard’, perhaps. Any flashy names you could recommend?”

Brendol blinked, her attempts at humor and genuine request conflicting in his head. He finally shook it, as if clearing the words from the air around him, and faced her again. “Armitage isn’t ready.”

“I haven’t said what I want him _for_ , Brendol.”

He tensed at that, and she realized she was meant to use titles. Oh, he was one of them, of course. He had his rank, and needed reminding of what it was in every conversation.

“He is improving, but he still isn’t _ready_. The boy is too small, too slow. He is afraid to commit.”

“And this is your professional assessment.”

“I have trained children for half of my military career, and studied them for longer. Armitage is slow to change.”

“Perhaps you are too close to the boy.” Sloane paused, realizing that Armitage must be closer to adulthood by this point. A teenager, at least. “The young man, rather.”

“I am not _close_ —”

“I mean that you are too close to the situation. To the cadets as a whole. You do not see them from afar. That, I flatter myself, is my role.” Sloane nodded firmly, still holding Brendol’s gaze. “And I would like to see Armitage.”

“Admiral—”

“Accomplish this, Commander. I have very little tolerance for delays. Arrange what you need, and inform me when Armitage is here.” With that, she gestured to the door, standing to offer him the curt nod of acknowledgement. “Farewell, Commander.”

Brendol had been left no room, no space to fight back, and so he edged out of the room to leave her in solitude. Sighing to herself, Sloane adjusted the lights in her office so that she could sit in near darkness and rested her eyes for a brief moment before turning to another item on her agenda.

Even with so much falling apart, there was never a moment to pause for too long.


	2. Chapter 2

The routine of procedure kept Sloane occupied for several days. Managing a ship was exciting to her, fulfilling in a unique way, and managing a fleet was only a matter of managing several ships. Even so, she had to now be aware of shipyards and supplies, the planets they neared and the course corrections required. Her schedule was consistently full. And so it took some time for her to realize that Brendol Hux had _ignored_ her request and had avoided her, forcing her to send another terse message.

_Bring Armitage Hux to my capital ship. I want to evaluate him myself._

And yet the man did not comply.

She waited for a full week, and there was _nothing_.

The message she sketched out next was curt, and she decided it would be better to order him rather than make a request. When the threat of disciplinary action was invoked, Brendol pleaded that there were unavoidable delays, that the Academy was undergoing some changes. The ships weren’t ready. The boys were in the middle of a training routine. (The training routines she remembered were never longer than a day, so she was uncertain why this would be a problem.) The fleet was too busy at the time.

His messages accumulated like so many layers of debris on an ocean wave, building and building until she finally broke. Commanding him to visit her office again, he attended her meekly, eyes lowered as she faced in him in icy silence, then explained her orders with careful precision.

The request was not _difficult_. Armitage himself might be able to accomplish it, were he here. But the problem was that Armitage was _not_ here, and Brendol _was_ , and she was more than a little disappointed that she’d ended up with—

Well, this Commander Hux was failing to impress.

As she’d expected, that had ignited Brendol’s temper. Insults were one thing, but he’d heard them before. He could handle himself in a war of words. But saying Armitage’s name so often got under his skin, and the implied comparisons made him angrier and angrier. He seethed before her, his anger slipping out from between the loose seams of his composure, and he garbled his response before saluting and fleeing her office faster than she’d ever seen him move.

At least the man was _doing_ something, which is what he had failed to accomplish for nearly a month.

Sloane kept her schedule open, watching and waiting for Brendol’s return, and she was unsurprised to hear him come over the comms with some long-winded presentation of his cargo. They were to see Sloane, and Brendol was a busy man, et cetera, so he needed to see her soon.

She merely sent the approval for him to see her again in her office, and offered a formal welcome to the Cadet Armitage Hux.

For all her languid waiting, Brendol had worked himself into greater and greater fits of agitation. It was visible on the viewscreens, when she watched him disembark. His son was nearly hidden behind him, gaunt and gangly with the first growth spurts of puberty. A flash of memory hit her, and she winced at the discomfort and anguish any developing human must undergo. She had few fond memories of her teenage years, and she doubted Armitage would have many either. Their progress through the ship ( _her_ ship) was slow and meandering, and it seemed as if Brendol was still lecturing to Armitage as they moved. Sloane waited in her seat and thought hard, accessing her memories of Armitage Hux, combing through the information available, and made her decisions.

When the two Huxes appeared at her door, Sloane was already standing, smiling tightly as Brendol started in surprise. Armitage met her eyes without hesitation, and she was pleased to watch him evaluate her. As she’d learned, he was a teenage boy: his hands and feet were too big for him, his face patchy and mottled with old pockmark scars and unnoticed hair. But his eyes were clear, and they met hers easily, and this only convinced her to follow through with her choices.

“Brendol. Thank you for your effort in bringing this about.” Sloane reached out to grasp Brendol by the shoulder, preventing him from entering the office. “I’ll speak to Armitage on my own from here.”

“What?” Brendol resisted, glancing to Armitage before trying to push Sloane’s hand off his shoulder. “Wait, no—if you have questions, I can answer them, the boy doesn’t know the purpose of what we do.”

“Then your training must not have been very good.” Sloane said simply, applying pressure to push Brendol backwards. “Welcome to my ship, Armitage Hux. Please, enter and sit.” Her free hand gestured forward, every inch the good host, and Armitage waited only a moment before moving past his father and entering the small Imperial office. Brendol stared at her, his face growing red enough to match his hair, and finally Sloane released him before drawing herself up.

“Do not make me _order_ you, Brendol Hux.”

He flinched slightly, backing away from the door. “You don’t know them. You don’t train them like I do, you don’t know where their power comes from.”

“I shouldn’t have to. All I need to do is trust them to do what is necessary when the time comes.” Sloane nodded firmly, turning back to have the door close behind her. He would be back, of course. Brendol had clung to the Empire for two decades already. He would die in its service, one way or another.

Now, before her, Armitage sat fidgeting in his chair, tracing the edge of the armrest with genuine interest. Sloane took the moment to study him further, noting the straightness of his back, the rigidity of his shoulders. _Odd_ , she thought. She assumed Brendol’s treatment of the boy would have trained him to be meek and cowardly, not…proud.

“Well, Armitage.” She moved back to her own seat, steepling her fingers in front of her. At the sound of her voice, Armitage straightened to attention, scrambling to meet her eyes once again. Now she could see his concern, his worry. His _fear_ , so much like his father’s and yet so distinctly changed. Like a carnivorous insect, she considered, or like an animal with teeth too large for its body. It needed a diet of prey larger than itself, yet it lived in constant danger. Not a good predator, not yet.

Her poise relaxed slightly, and she watched too as this produced only more tension in Armitage. Even if the cause was troubling, the instinct was sound. He sat forward, nearly resting his elbows on his knees, and ducked his head once before suddenly bursting out with,

“I’m honored to be here, sir, and I hope I haven’t done anything or caused anything that offends or ruined—”

“No, Armitage. Although it was a bit of trouble to get you here.”

“And I am _so_ sorry, sir, I assure you I wasn’t aware of—”

“Shush.” She raised a hand, and it brought her a perverse pleasure to see Armitage shut up and sit back. With a grateful nod, she continued. “I wanted to see you again because I remembered you. I wanted to know if you remembered me.”

Armitage did not burst forth with explanations this time, his gaze slipping from hers. The question wasn’t too precise—it hadn’t been that long, after all, since they’d met—but her memories of those first few years were growing blurry. And she felt that Armitage’s perspective would be important.

“I have never forgotten you, sir.” He finally said, his voice now much lower than its initial fervent pitch. “You were—we were fleeing. Retreating. Regrouping. And the entire ship was so _confused_ , but you knew. You saw what to do. At least…that’s what I remember.” He rubbed at his knee with the palm of a hand, his original Imperial poise having relaxed slightly.

“I don’t think anyone else would describe it that way, but yes. We extracted as many as we could. The Empire…changed.” Sloane glanced to the wall of her office, where one might put a viewport one day. “It is still changing.”

“I know.” Armitage stiffened again, looking up at her. “I mean—permission to speak, sir.”

“I have called you in for an interview, Armitage, not a reprimand. I would appreciate your perspective.”

“If you want my technical knowledge, I can do that too. Brendol doesn’t think I know, but I do—”

This time, Sloane merely raised her hand to produce his silence, and she nodded in gratitude. “I am not worried about what Brendol thinks.”

The statement hung between them, and she could see how it paralyzed Armitage. He shuddered, straightening in his seat, and she had a realization that part of his movement came down to just mere energy. His body was unfamiliar to him, his environment was entirely new, and his fidgeting was merely the excess trying to escape. Even so, he managed to compose his thoughts, drawing them to a conclusion before facing her.

“The Empire is changing. I don’t…I don’t remember what it was before. I learned, of course, we all learn about it, and we study Tarkin and Palpatine and Motti and Vader. But my corps, the squads and garrisons we have, we aren’t _like_ them. We don’t have access to Coruscant, we’re not trained there, and even if no one says it, we’re just—we’re just Outlands recruits, aren’t we? We’re stuck here on the edge of space, and the few good generals we have don’t think we can do it.”

“What if I think we can do it?”

Armitage attempted a shaky smile, but Sloane understood his hesitation. She felt it herself, every time she had to contest another officer. Always another fight, always another struggle for power. The Rebellion was bad enough, but her fellow officers were _hell_.

“Well, we’d—you know, I think we’d still—”

“’That’s nice, Admiral Sloane, but it doesn’t mean poodoo against the other generals’, is that it?” Sloane sighed, settling back in her own chair. “You’d be right to think that. I am here, Armitage Hux, because I am the only one qualified to try and hold this ramshackle outfit together, not because I can convince everyone that I’m right. Rax did that. And now Rax is dead.”

Armitage was quiet, and she watched now how he avoided her gaze. His awe upon meeting her had worn off, and old habits had returned. And at the end of the day, she was still his superior officer.

“I don’t want to try and confuse you. We have to believe in the Empire, all of us, and I believe we still do. But we cannot lie to ourselves about the reality. You’ve seen it. I can see it. Everyone can see it. And as time passes, we need to be realistic about our progress.”

“So we are making progress.” There was hope now in his voice, and she found herself surprised to hear it. Had it been so long since someone genuinely believed her?

“We can. With time, we recover. But only a fool believes she can do everything herself.” She nodded, gesturing to herself. “Permission to be honest with you, Armitage Hux.”

He blinked, studying her now with confusion. “I’m sorry?”

“I am _tired_ , Armitage. I am an admiral. I was trained to manage a fleet, and that’s what I’ve done. Brendol was put in place to develop our training routines, our Academies, and that’s what he’s done. Now you’re here. Whatever graduation means in your corps, it is coming soon. And the Empire needs something more than an admiral with a fleet.”

Armitage still hesitated, still waited for her. Sloane waited a heartbeat longer, finally taking a deep breath.

“I want to make you the youngest member of our Imperial staff, Armitage Hux. We need to innovate. To develop. We need to go beyond ships and maneuvers and start organizing men, and garrisons. An old nexu may still have a sting, but I cannot fail because I was too proud to think of the future. You are our future. And you can command.”

Now Armitage’s hesitation was caused from true surprise, his hands grasping the edge of his chair. She could easily imagine it—dragged from his cot, most likely, shuttled across space, thrust into this ship he’d never seen. And now she was offering to promote him.

“You—You want _me_.”

“You were the only one who was there. The only child to witness the Empire’s fall from glory. You were inside, beside me, on that ship. I am making good on old promises, Armitage. It took longer than I realized, but you are not a child now. What your youth and lack of experience fail to provide, your family name replaces. The other generals do not have to respect you, but they will recognize you.”

“But Brendol—”

“Not only because of Brendol. You are his son. But I believe there is room for only one Commander Hux in our armies.”

Armitage shivered anew, raw greed and hunger and terror all coiled within him. His expression said far too much, its tensions speaking volumes. Sloane had become very skilled at reading the non-expressions of Imperial officers. And yet Armitage was still eager for this, awaiting promotion. So young, and already so desperate for that little invisible square.

“You won’t be asked to step immediately into command. I understand that the adjustment will be difficult. But I want you here, not at the Academy, moving forward. You will join my staff. And for a few months, at least, you will be with me.”

“With you.” Armitage repeated, confusion tainting his excitement.

“As a member of my staff, I will need you to offer your evaluations. In my private memos, in the briefings, I want your perspective.”

Armitage nodded quietly this time, reaching out to trace the edge of her desk. Odd, that. As if he’d never seen them before. She waited, watching him process, until finally he looked up at her with a start.

“Do you need me to accept? Because I accept. Starting immediately, I want to start, if I can—”

“Then the arrangements will be made. But be assured that this transfer will not give you opportunity to relax. I hold all my officers to a high standard of behavior, and you will be no different. Do your research. Continue your routines. Prepare yourself to be plunged into a world so much worse than your imagination.” Now the fear began to shadow Armitage’s features, and Sloane nodded grimly to herself. Better he be prepared than naïve. “You will spend your first few days observing our security. External threats are bad enough, but monitoring internal threats can never be ignored. I, and the other commanders, rely on the structure of Imperial ships and our schedules to keep us safe in our own quarters. Be ready to answer my questions, and determine what skills you will need to succeed.”

Any hint of elation had disappeared from Armitage’s face, but the hollow shock was bolstered by resolution. _Good_ , Sloane considered. The spirit had not been trained or beaten out of him, and Brendol hadn’t managed to cure him of his strength.

Ah, and what to do about Brendol?

As much as she disliked throwing around her status for her own desires, it would be necessary again in this case. Brendol listened to her rank, not her persona, and she would be the Grand Admiral in full glory if it allowed her to keep Armitage here. Even if Brendol complained, he would have to recognize that she was right. Armitage was necessary for the next step of Imperial progress, and he needed to enter the Imperial world now. Before it was too late.

Before she was killed, or replaced, or made a wrong move and died in a stupid firefight.

She pushed these thoughts away, turning on her comm to request an escort for Armitage. Brendol would be lurking nearby, but she could not afford to waste more time in protecting Armitage from his comments. The boy had handled them for so long—a few more days would not kill him.

She could not allow herself to be sentimental about this. Armitage was a capable young man, that was all. And he could be shaped into a profitable ally. She had to set aside the image of him as a boy, so much younger, so much _smaller_ , curled against the durasteel of a ship’s hull and staring at the men who were bickering over the Empire’s future.

He _was_ the Empire’s future now. And the sooner he inherited it, the better.

She hoped desperately he was up to the challenge.


	3. Chapter 3

Sloane no longer afforded Armitage Hux the luxury of a seated meeting: he had adjusted to the pace of her schedule, and shadowed her whenever possible, making sure to catch any question or observation she could offer. He was attentive, almost worryingly so. He _clung_ to her at times, like a besotted puppy.

No, no, that was unfair. Just because he was younger and a man, she could not assume he had developed a crush. He only ever expressed his admiration, and was developing the boldness to contradict her if he knew she was wrong. If he was caught in an adolescent infatuation, he was smart enough and strong enough to conceal it well. She had admired and respected a number of older officers during her time in service, and it had rarely contained a romantic component. She could offer Armitage this understanding, then, in her evaluations.

Even so, she knew about his past. His life, expressed in bits and pieces. She could remember vague scraps of the Republic; Armitage Hux only ever had the Empire. He had been shaped by the Empire from birth, and by Brendol for just as long. Her distaste for Brendol could be easily accommodated, and set aside when in polite company. Armitage was not yet capable of this.

His anger and his greed were worn too boldly, even after months in service. He spoke to his superiors with the deference they deserved, but she could see the fire in his eyes, the sharpness in his movements. The smart ones—and frankly, if they had survived this long, they were smart enough—could see it too, and would not tolerate it forever. Not unless Armitage pulled off some impressive maneuver, and if they had their way, they would never afford him that chance.

She could see all this, like she saw other connections forming or breaking in the new Empire, and yet was uncertain. She couldn’t force anyone to pay attention to Armitage, beyond her already obvious favoritism. Brendol’s hatred was visible enough, but the other commanders neither encouraged Brendol to act out nor offered their support to Armitage. They were so quiet, somehow, even to her observation, and she finally took a moment to slow herself and find Armitage alone.

He never complained about her attention, and was usually open and honest with her. It frightened her, his raw intensity, but she absorbed it and accepted his apologies whenever his rants or his moments of weakness were over. They both knew he was easily led by her, and she occasionally felt a twinge of guilt for abusing his trust, but he continued to live up to her expectations. And so, when she casually mentioned the attitude of other commanders, he stared out of the viewport and traced the edge of the sill.

“It’s to be expected. I never took notice of the cadets beneath me at the academy, unless they came into our classes. I am merely a new recruit, here.”

“But you, your name—they know who you are.” Sloane nodded, studying him in profile. “You have been watching them since you were eight years old.”

“My observations were limited. Childish.”

“Yet still useful. Return to them now.”

Armitage flinched, and Sloane was surprised to find out much the request had sounded like an order. A shame, but there was no correcting it now.

“They knew who I was. They know who I am.”

“They resent you.”

“They do not resent _me_.” Armitage explained, gesturing with a hand to himself. “My attitude and demeanor doesn’t matter. I could be an ace pilot or a skilled engineer or a nerf herder and their response would be the same. They resent what I am.”

“You are Brendol Hux’s son.”

“I am his bastard.” Armitage said flatly, and Sloane was—again—surprised to _feel_ herself reacting viscerally to the pejorative. It was so rarely used that to hear it in Armitage’s clipped tone sounded too clinical for its meaning. “I am the reminder that Brendol Hux betrayed a vow and abused his position.”

“The Empire never punished him for it. Or you, for that matter. You both are useful and important assets, or were at one point, and humans have no great loyalty to a marriage system for producing ‘legitimate’ children. Only the counts or barons or monarchies care about that, and the Empire ignored those claims whenever they arose.”

“I think, looking back,” Armitage seemed not to have heard her, his gaze distant. He had returned to old memories, just as she’d asked. As she’d _ordered_. “That I was a reminder that Brendol was a fool. I—whatever my personal opinions, the others…could see me. I was _allowed_ to exist in the Empire. I showed them that Brendol Hux had the freedom, and the foolishness, to waste his time with not just _one_ woman, but two, and possibly many. And then, _and then_ , he was allowed to waste his resources on my upbringing and education. And after all that, after so much, he was allowed to ignore me. I wasn’t being trained specially, my routine was not so different, and I could have been like so many other children on any other Mid-Rim mudball. But I wasn’t. I was brought onto Imperial ships and kept in Imperial quarters and trained in Imperial methods and transported on Imperial shuttles and yet Brendol did _nothing_ with me.”

“You were just a child, and the Empire was facing rebellion.”

“I was a _failure_ , Admiral Sloane.” Armitage twitched, drawing in a deep breath, and Sloane felt a creeping shiver of worry constrict around her chest. This might have been unwise. “I was not a person, because I was a child, but I could represent Brendol, and Brendol represented all the waste and all the inefficiency and all the nepotism of an Empire that was meant to be _better_. They might have respected Brendol more if he had appointed me a lieutenant, or given me some meaningless title. At least that would have proved that he was _doing_ something. But now they still see me, and I am still just a child, and they remember that Brendol is still alive. Brendol Hux survives, and Tarkin and Thrawn are dead, and you are forced to pick up the pieces with an Empire that did nothing to prepare for this.”

When he finished, Sloane felt the silence closing in around them, and she hesitated to fill it with her own words. But it was clear that Armitage’s thoughts were not merely a production of the moment, and she had—however unintentionally—uncovered this ravine and stumbled in.

“I won’t pretend that I have everything under control. The Empire did fail, for a time. The rebels gained an upper hand. Weak men, and vain officers, and pretentious pretenders, have brought the Empire to its knees. And we are rebuilding it, piece by bloody piece. That is why you are _here_ , Armitage. Because I need you here to do this. We all need you here to do this. It will just…take time.”

“I know.” Armitage turned back, facing her for just a moment before lowering his gaze. “Everything takes time. Until the moment it doesn’t, and everything happens in a moment, and then it starts again.”

“At least your tactical knowledge is sound.” Sloane offered a thin smile, looking to the viewport before turning back down the corridor. “I don’t intend to flatter you. Your assessment of your abilities seems sound, but they have not been tested.”

“I still must wait.” Armitage said, following her footsteps almost exactly. His legs were longer, but he adjusted his stride for hers, and Sloane wondered why her brain chose this moment to recognize this.

“You will still be labeled with the stigma of nepotism.”

“It will be nothing new.”

“I want you to accomplish much. You need to.”

“For the Empire.”

“For the galaxy.” Sloane concluded, and she straightened her back as they fell silent once more. She hadn’t realized the depths of Armitage’s thinking, and she wondered if anyone truly knew the depths of the man’s thoughts. He had been biding his time for so long already. Did he even consider her attention as a favor? Or was she merely another step in his path, in the destiny he had begun to shape for himself?

She thought of this, and then remembered his attention. His greedy observations, in those first few days. He had learned to hide it, but her praise still meant too much to him. He still craved her attention. And it was not a matter of infatuation, perhaps, but mere _need_ , his need for validation in a galaxy that had refused him that gift for so long. He would need to hide his need better.

His need would kill him, if he let it. It chilled Sloane to consider, that he might work so hard and then fail because of this weakness. She wondered if it would kill him quickly, or if it would be a slow, insidious, painful death. Would he even know it was happening?

Was she preparing to leave the Empire in his hands, knowing this?

She was getting weary. This work demanded so much. She needed to sleep more, she needed to take a break, she needed—

She needed to see _progress._ Like Armitage, all this waiting was beginning to kill her too. She could help maintain the Empire, she could keep it steady on her course, but they needed something to give them momentum. A step forward. Armitage needed it, to prove that he wasn’t just Brendol’s son, and she needed it to prove that the Empire could survive.

Could she assign this to Armitage? That was a possibility. Probe his intelligence further to see what he decided, examine his tactical thoughts further. It would be a worthy challenge.

Her resolution grew firmer as she considered this option, but was careful not to reveal her thoughts in her expression. She could not let Armitage have every piece of information, not yet. It was not that she did not _trust_ him—but if Armitage was weak, then that weakness was hers, by association. It would take work to strengthen him further.

It could be done. She had not come so far on pessimism and resignation. She would persevere, and drag Armitage with her, and they would emerge victorious.

There was no other option for them.


End file.
